


The Wall

by Seveduit11233



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, George Washington is a Dad, Implied Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-25 05:30:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14970098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seveduit11233/pseuds/Seveduit11233
Summary: John Laurens has died, and Alexander spirals into a deep depression. Nothing his friends say can cheer him up.  Instead he hides at home, not even daring to go to work and nursing his damaged heart. That changes one stormy night. What follows is a love comedy between two people who don't see each other's face but fall in love anyways, the same two being public political rivals, James Madison trying to help but ultimately just making it worse and Aaron Burr, who sees the bigger picture and is just groaning 'Why?'.Enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

“Where’s Hamilton? Haven’t seen him all week,” Thomas Jefferson asked idly, searching through his papers. “He’s going to fall behind if he doesn’t show up.”

Truthfully, he had expected the unstoppable bastard to smash down the door just with the mention of his name and start a fight, but there was no enraged immigrant in sight. Odd. Hamilton had an uncanny ability of knowing when people were talking behind his back. James Madison, his best friend sneezed before giving him a significant look. 

“What?” 

“Hamilton’s been away for ten days,” James sniffled, bringing out his handkerchief. 

The thought gave Thomas pause. Hamilton was fanatical about his work, practically living in his office and managing to run an entire branch of government of his own. From what Thomas could tell, Hamilton actually enjoyed the publicity; the constant fights; and working himself into the ground. Thomas couldn’t understand that for the life of him. Hamilton had refused to go on vacation despite the fact he hadn’t missed a single day for at least 4 years, and even under the President’s orders during his 'vacation' he sent in the work via laptop. Hamilton didn’t have a life; apart from the workplace. He wouldn’t skip work for the world. 

“Did he get hit by a bus?”

James gave a exasperated huff.

“Thomas, everyone knows this. It’s been the office gossip for weeks.”

“Jemmy, you know I don’t like to socialize,” Thomas whined. James rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics.

“You haven’t wondered why you haven’t fought with him in a while?”

“No,” Thomas responded thoughtfully. “I suppose the peace was so nice that I didn’t question where the main antagonist has gone.”

James rose an eyebrow.

“Your life is not a book, Thomas, we’ve been over this.”

Thomas groaned. If he could hide in a book for the rest of his life, he would. Deciding to change the subject before James could shatter his dream he said,

“If he’s not dead, where is he? I could hardly imagine him skipping work. He wouldn’t do anything to upset his daddy.”

“His best friend passed away,” James stated solemnly. Instead of appearing remorseful, Thomas drew his eyebrows together. He tried to create an image of the said friend, but failed. Honestly, he would congratulate anyone who could go ten minutes with Hamilton and not get into a fight. Hamilton’s friend had to be as crazy as he was.

“Hamilton has friends?”

“As unbelievable as it is, yes,” James responded dryly, leaving out the part Hamilton and him could have been considered friends. Once; before political views and favoritism put them at odds. “From what Burr said, they were extremely close.”

“Burr said that?” Thomas asked disbelievingly. Trying to get information out of Burr was impossible. Thomas had tried. It had taken 6 hours and twenty pints of whiskey before his drunk brain conceded to that infuriating polite smile. In addition to getting a massive hangover, Burr seemed virtually unaffected the next day, despite the fact Thomas was sure that he had more alcohol. There was absolutely no way to force Burr to spill unless he wanted to. 

“No, not exactly.” James glanced out the window, eyes following a cardinal. “But when I mentioned it he seemed a bit closed off.”

“Even for Burr?” Thomas snorted.

“Even for Burr,” James acknowledged. He stood, gathering his papers. “We should be getting home. It’s quite late.”

“It’s not that dark yet,” Thomas protested. James rubbed his eyes.

“Thomas, you need your rest. Let’s get an early start in the morning, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Jemmy,” Thomas surrendered. It was pretty late, and if he were left alone he would lose track of time and spend all night working. In the end, James always had the more reasonable outlook. As they approached their respective cars, James voiced a concern that had been troubling him.

“How’s that apartment going for you?”

Thomas glanced over.

“Fine. My neighbor doesn’t go to sleep until ungodly hours, but he doesn’t make a lot of noise, and I think he’s been away for the past week. Besides the fact that it has a pretty cheap design, it’s acceptable. Still, if I had my way, everything would have to be more extravagant.”

“That’s good.” James was relieved. Since Monticello was quite a drive from the office, Thomas had opted to rent a room instead, only he had gotten kicked out of the buildings for numerous reasons. Thomas had grew up in a rich household and so had not prepared himself for living alone. Hopefully, he would be able to adjust.

“You don’t need to worry about me Jemmy, I’ll be fine.”

“I sure hope so,” James muttered under his breath.

\---

Thomas was roused from his slumber by a unidentifiable sound. Running a hand through his hair, he sat up. From his window he could tell it was raining, thunder crashing down periodically. Was it the storm? No, he wasn’t usually awoken from weather changes. Jane had joked that not even a national crisis could get him to leave the warm confines of his bed. He had even slept through an earthquake once. Granted, it was small, but it had sent his family into a state of alarm. Randolph and Anna had been in hysterics, crying their eyes out.

Oh.

A muffled cry came from behind the wall. It was his neighbour. No wonder. Thomas had grown up around his younger siblings, so waking up to their nightmares had become second nature. Another call of distress, and Thomas decided to start focusing on the real problem. The noise was a mix of gibberish and French, oddly enough. Perhaps it was a immigrant?

“Why are you crying?” he asked in French. Lafayette had forced him to learn the language while in France, so he was quite fluent. The choked sobs paused for a moment before becoming muffled, as if his neighbor was trying to stop his crying. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Thomas reassured, trying to be as kind as possible. “Just let it out.”

“Yo-You’re not mad?” 

French, just as Thomas suspected.

“Of course not. Why would I be?”

“I woke you up in the middle of the night,” came the deadpan voice. There was a nagging feeling at the back of Thomas’ brain, a notion that tugged at him, but he pushed it away. Over analyzing the situation wouldn’t be any help now.

“You can pay me back in the morning. Now, d’you want to tell me why you’re crying?”

A flash, accompanied by the boom of thunder exploded outside the window. It rather sounded like a bomb going off. Thomas paid this little concern, but his neighbor reacted with a cry of alarm and more sobbing. The dots connected.

“Is it the storm?”

Silence. Thomas supposed that was his form of agreement.

“Do you want me to get anyone?”

“No!” His neighbor shouted desperately at the top of his lungs, so loudly that Thomas winced.

“You don't have to yell that loud,” Thomas growled. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry,” came the voice, broken. Thomas regretted his sharp words.

“Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

There was long moment, filled by the soft patter of the rain and the occasional thunder. Just when Thomas thought he wasn’t going to get a response, his neighbor started,

“I grew up on the Caribbean.”

Thomas had no idea what that had to do with anything, but if it distracted his neighbor from the storm then he was willing to listen.

“San Juan?” 

“Nevis. A small village, just a dot on a map. Poor, racked with poverty and crime. I was only 17. It was a hot summer day.” A slight note of melancholy had slipped into his voice, not exactly telling the story, but reliving it. “I had a real future in the trading firm. The boss liked me, even put me in charge while he was away. It was one of those days, where everything seems nice and perfect. Thomas Stevens, the man who was housing me at that time, and his son were truly kind to me; acted like I was a part of the family. But then it came…”

“What came?” Thomas asked, more emotionally invested with this story than he had any right to be. Perhaps it was the tone, not so much reciting than telling a story. He had to hear the end of it.

“A hurricane,” his neighbor whimpered. It took a few moments before he went on. “Everyone knew it was coming, you know, since the Caribbean had a lot of hurricanes. One look at the yellow sky and everyone was waiting it out in their houses, knowing that it would pass, just like all the others. It didn’t.”

“It destroyed the roof first, sucking all the wood away plank by plank. We escaped, scrambled away from the collapsing house. I still remember Stevens calling for us before we drawn under the waves. The hurricane must have really messed up the sea level. And-and-”

The neighbor took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

“I almost drowned. I can still feel the water trying to drag me down, and even when I got a breath water was always splashing down on me from the sky. I had to fight for the air I inhaled. My village was being torn apart and lifted up to oblivion, yet I could do nothing to stop it. I felt helpless as I heard the screams around me, begging for help. I felt like I was dying. I wondered if I should just give up. Just let go and let the waves pull me under. I would be easier surely, than this painful life. But my mom-my mom-she appeared, pushing me, urging me forward, and reminding me that gave up her life for me; how could I just throw away her sacrifice? So I fought, I fought goddammit, I fought for my life and I made it.”

His voice, which had gradually gotten louder and more intense during his speech had dropped again.

“But Stevens and his son died. They drowned. I was left all alone. Again. ”

Thomas took a moment to absorb all this information. This immigrant truly had an eventful, but tragic life. He would’ve thought that it was a lie, just a part from a book, but the voice was too real. Deep down, he knew it was true.

“Well, that was depressing.”

For a moment Thomas worried he had said something wrong, as the voice did not respond. Then his neighbor burst out laughing. Thomas couldn’t understand what was so hilarious about this situation, so he decided to remain silent until his neighbor calmed down.

“Sorry,” his neighbor giggled. “It’s just… most people give me their pity, which I don’t need, or praise, which I don’t care for, or change the subject entirely. It’s gotten so repetitive that I just didn’t want to retell it anymore. Your reply is a nice change.”

Thomas felt his heart flutter for a brief moment before squashing it. There was no way he was going to develop feelings for his neighbor who he’d never really spoken to. Speaking of which…

“What’s your name?”

“Huh?”

“Your name. What everyone calls you?” Thomas pressed impatiently. 

“Um… well, you can call me Alex.”

Thomas decided not to comment on the fact that it was more a nickname than anything, and he hadn't even bothered adding his last name.

“I’m-”

Thomas froze. If he honest to god said he was Thomas Jefferson, a big name politician and arguably the third most well known republican Alex would definitely judge him. Perhaps even use this knowledge to his advantage. Probably not, but Thomas had only known him for a short while. He decided to bend the truth a little.

“-Tom.”

“Tom?” Alex asked incredulously. “Tom?”

“What’s wrong with Tom?” Thomas questioned defensively.

“Tom seems so boring. You’re not boring are you? I can’t tolerate that.”

“Of course not,” Thomas shot back disdainfully.

“Prove it.”

As they bickered, fighting over menial things, both of them forgot the storm raging outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Burr refers to himself by his last name, as I find that it is less confusing this way.

The next morning, Thomas awoke to the sun shining down on his face. He grumbled irritably and buried his face into his pillow. He hated mornings. They were a atrocity that should cease to exist. Suddenly, all the memories came rushing back. 

“Alex? You there?”

There was no response. Thomas felt his heart drop. Had he already gone to work? It was so early! Did he even work? It would’ve been fun to have a mini debate before heading off. He had forgot to ask for his phone number. Seeing Alex’s erratic schedule; not coming in for an entire week before crying due to a storm, Thomas couldn’t be sure when he’d see him again. It struck him how much he was acting like a lovesick teenager. Feeling heartbroken just because his crush didn’t immediately come running at his beck and call. No, not his crush, his neighbour, he admonished himself. He couldn’t fall in love with someone he’s never met.

Sighing, Thomas went through his morning routine. According to his clock he’d have plenty of time to get to work. First, he chose his typical magenta suit from his magenta filled closet. No matter what others thought of his clothing choices, he knew it was fabulous. He wondered what Alex would think. Would he make fun of his favourite colour or accept it? Alex had shown that he could stand up for himself, especially in their after argument.

Next, he cooked up some mac and cheese. The godly food. The chosen one. Mac and cheese was the best meal anyone could have, no matter Burr’s passive aggressive comments that it was unhealthy to eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. James was more upfront, physically dragging Thomas to restaurants to give him of the nutrition his body needed.

He drove to work. Really, he could’ve walked, but it was too much of a pain to butt around pedestrians. Thomas parked on his usual spot and walked in whistling. Making a friend, Alex, was impressive for him. Typically he ended up insulting whoever decided to talk to him. Playing nice was exhausting, but if he didn’t people saw him as an egotistical jerk. Finding people who he could truly share his feelings with was rare. If that didn’t put them off, then he would invariably find something they disagreed on and insult them. He didn’t mean to. They just said something incredibly stupid and he simply corrected them. Worked great in politics, not in relationships. 

As he walked by Hamilton’s office, he noticed it was cracked open a centimeter. Had the gremlin finally bothered to show up? He peeked through the gap to see the immigrant typing away furiously at his computer. For a moment, he contemplated barging in just to aggravate him, but then he remembered about his friends death. Thomas would certainly like some quiet if James died. No, Thomas would fall apart. He knew that too.

“Thomas!”

Burr wrapped an arm around the tall man’s shoulders. Somehow the gesture was threatening. Burr style; make everyday things scary. Burr’s eyes shone with unspoken anger, and his polite smile was icy. His grip was just a bit too tight to be cordial. To a stranger, Burr seemed like a good friend, but Thomas knew better. The question was: what had Thomas done to elicit this level of anger? Sure, Thomas had messed up plenty, but nothing came to mind.

“Yes, Aaron?” Thomas asked, trying to be polite but sounding cocky and dismissive instead. 

“How has your day been going?” Burr asked, not really paying attention to the answer while steering Thomas towards their meeting room. This seemed odd for Burr, but he didn’t comment as they entered. James sat comfortably at a desk, working through a mess of papers.

“Well, actually, pretty great” Thomas replied, picking up one of the files. It looked like a messy law lobbying gone wrong. He grimaced, understanding James’ hardship. As he sat the papers down, he realized that both Burr and James were staring at him, frozen in their movements.

“What?”

“I’ve asked you that every day since the moment we’ve met and you always responded, without fail, ‘well’,” Burr pointed out. James nodded in agreement.

Thomas debated to tell them or not. More like to tell Burr. He’d known James since he was young and knew that he could be trusted. Burr was… different. For one, he always smiled. It was unnerving. No one was happy all the time. For another, he rarely gave out his thoughts and opinions, always appearing appeasing before the deciding moment. He might vote on the opposite side everyone had expected him to vote. He might accept bribes, only giving them back on the important day. He might accept a task, only to hand it off and ignore you when you asked for it. He might do the opposite. It was all very confusing. Only Hamilton and James had ever correctly guessed Burr’s moods and decisions, another reason not to trust Burr. He was friends with Hamilton. 

He was friends with everybody, including Thomas, and he should really stop being so picky about this. Burr was one of two people on this earth who tolerated Thomas and his sharp tongue. Well, three now. Deciding to take a leap of faith, Thomas confessed,

“I made a friend.”

Burr’s expression didn’t change, but James broke in to a wide smile. 

“That’s great. Truly amazing, Thomas.” James reached up and patted Thomas’ soft curls. 

“When I left the office in the evening I did not suspect you to acquaint yourself with someone so quickly,” Burr said, question in his words. Even he was aware of Thomas’ limited social connections.

“Yes, do tell,” James encouraged.

Thomas explained everything from that night. He was careful to go in depth and not leave out a single detail. Burr’s eyes narrowed, becoming little more than slits at the end of the story.

“What’s wrong Burr? Are you jealous?”

Thomas slapped a hand over his mouth. This was coming from the guy who had difficulty talking to people. He hadn’t meant to sound so patronizing. Burr quickly morphed his expression back into one of peaceful complacency.

“Not at all, Thomas,” Burr smiled just a tiny bit wider; his way of showing forgiveness. If Hamilton hadn’t screamed that fact in Thomas’ face when they were having a frankly ridiculous argument over who knew Burr better, Thomas wouldn’t have taken notice of it. He was quite happy for that argument though, for if they didn’t have it he would’ve felt guilty all day. 

“I’m proud, Thomas,” James said fondly. He ran a hand through Thomas’ hair again. Thomas almost purred. James never gave out compliments liberally, so Thomas must have done achieved something monumental. Burr’s eyes flicked between them, but said nothing. It suddenly occurred to Thomas that this was the movie plot to a romantic scene.

“We’re not dating,” he blurted out. James froze, slightly confused, and Burr recoiled, as if physically hit. Burr’s eyebrows knitted together, trying to figure out how Thomas had deduced his thought process.

“Whatever gave you the impression that I had spared even a single thought to that?” Burr asked. If Alexander was here, he would’ve immediately seen through Burr’s panicked wording. Thankfully, this was Thomas.  
Thomas flushed darkly.

“I just thought…”

“What Thomas meant if that many others have questioned us about this before, and he naturally assumed you were too,” James cut in. It was true too. Many of their co-workers had come up to them and asked if they were dating. Upon receiving a negative response, they asked when they were going to confess. It was tiring to explain, especially after Washington gave them a lecture on workplace relationships. Thomas and James had a platonic relationship, though they had dated in the past.

“I see,” Burr acknowledged. At least Thomas had not yet gained the ability to read him. “Thank you for the clarification, but I must step outside for a moment. Please, continue with your duties.”

Burr’s formalness at his exit did not go unnoticed. 

“What’s his problem?” Thomas asked as soon as Burr was out of hearing range. James seemed thoughtful, shaking his head.

“Aaron seems to have something on his mind.”

“One day, you and Hamilton are going to have to tell me how you read him.”

James gave him a sidelong grin.

“Come, let us get back to work.”

\---

Burr stalked down the hallway, exchanging formalities with those he passed. Manners were the epitome of impressions, and Burr certainly wanted to leave a good impression. Still, he was a tad bit distracted as he ran through the previous conversation in his head. Thomas had a neighbour who was afraid of storms, named Alex, and was a half decent debater? Those were such clear signs that Burr was surprised that James had not picked up on it. He seemed like the kind of guy to draw logical conclusions, even reading Burr right. Then again, James’ primary power was heartlessly using blackmail, manipulating people into his web, and having Thomas under his wing.

It was unfair, Burr decided, to compare himself against James. Burr had known Hamilton longer, and although not they weren’t very close he at least knew of Alexander’s fears. He had not expected it to be this bad. Even if Alexander shut the door in his face, he should have at least checked in, knowing Alexander. In retrospect, he couldn’t believe he had not seen it sooner. 

The first and only time Burr had even seen Alexander cry, John was quick to appear and comfort Alexander. From there, Burr assumed that Alexander had either been cured or the trauma had been drastically weakened. Neither of those two seemed to be correct. John must have been helping Alexander on his own, as none of their other friends knew. After John died, Burr should have automatically assumed that Alexander would not be alright in storms.

It was not important now, Burr decided as he approached Alexander’s office. He currently needed to confirm his theory if Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson lived beside each other and contemplate on how this was going to affect the future. Knowing Alexander’s unstoppable personality and Thomas’ sharp tongue, they could go to lovers or hate even more. Burr, contrary to popular belief, would prefer the former. He was sick of being dragged into the middle of their arguments; forced to choose sides no matter how he rejected; and some quiet in the workplace would be welcome. Even if he had to watch Alexander and Thomas behave like lovesick puppies. Now, it was an even better moment to have these two get along. Alexander might not be able to handle fights right now.

Burr knocked on the slightly ajar door, not wanting to break protocol. Alexander gave an exasperated sigh, as if his whole master plan to trick Burr into breaking the rules had gone awry. Burr wouldn’t put it past him.

“Come in.”

Burr entered and inspected the small immigrant. Messy, tousled hair, as if he had just rolled out of bed. Bloodshot eyes; slightly puffy. Had he cried all night? Burr felt a stab of pity and guilt before waving it off. Emotions were useless. Eyebags more prominent than Burr had ever seen them, despite taking an unannounced ten day vacation. Clothing casual, with a splash of coffee on the collar. That gave Burr pause. Alexander always wore fancy outfits to work. It was apparently needed to give the impression he was rich, therefore dismissing the idea he grew up poor. Perhaps this was his way of mourning? Or, more likely, he couldn’t be bothered to pick out an outfit, with the grief and all. Malnutritioned, bloodshot eyes, tired, sad. In short, about the state Burr had expected to find him in.

The room was a catastrophe. Alexander had previously lived in the office, so he had all the survival necessities hidden in different cabinets. Unfortunately it seemed he couldn't be bothered to clean up anymore. Clothing was strewn about without purpose, and there were little bits of broken glass on the floor. Flowers were overflowing from the trash bin, giving the impression of a vase. Likely coworkers trying to show their sympathy and getting it chucked back in their face. 

“What are you here for, Burr?” Alexander asked tiredly. “I don’t want to be disturbed. I should tell someone to put that up. My office is fine. Don’t comment on my appearance either, and don’t offer your condolences. I’ve already had everyone from the building, complete and total strangers, and even foreign news media doing that. What right do they have intruding on my personal affairs? Don’t give me any of your pity either. You know how I feel about pity.”

“Useless, unnecessary, and counterproductive,” Burr quoted. Both of them deemed certain human functions useless. For Burr, it was feeling; for Alexander food and sleep. Perhaps that's why they got along so well.

“Anyways, I’m busy, and I really don’t want to talk. Especially about feelings. I’ve already had Eliza and Lafayette come by my apartment with those questions, and I’ve got to tell you, it just made me feel a whole lot worse. It was supposed to help in the healing process, but it just made it ten times more terrible. Don’t take any courses like that Burr. I wonder if those psychologists know what they’re doing. I should look into that.”

Before Alexander could really get on with his topic, Burr cut in,

“I’ve just come by to drop off some files.”

Alexander brightened, reaching for them, but Burr’s grip was solid. Alexander glared up at him. Only Alexander would pout that he couldn’t get any work.

“What do you want?”

“Tell me how your day has gone.”

“Why should I? I could just ask the interns for more.”

“Washington forbade you to take on more,” Burr stated factually. Alexander snarled, having his bluff called.

"Washington is under the impression that I am buried in grief, which is not true."

Burr rose an eyebrow, glancing around the room.

"I'm fine! You don't have to act like I'm mentally unstable just because-"

"Then answer the question."

Alexander groaned.

“Terribly. Now give.”

“In detail.”

Alexander rolled his eyes.

“This is ridiculous. Why do you want to know anyways?”

Burr hesitated for a split second.

“Hah! You’re genuinely curious!”

How did Alexander always know what he was thinking? It was unfathomable.

“Yes, I am.”

“Why? Did someone tell you something? Did Eliza and Laf put you up to this?”

Silence.

“No? Fine, I’ll spill. I was crying inside and it was raining. The end.”

“You were crying,” Burr prompted. Alexander gritted his teeth.

“I was crying and then the dude from next door had to comfort me through a wall and then we had a small debate. Done.”

Theory confirmed. Potential future effects predicting.

“What is with that face?” Alexander asked, carefully scanning Burr’s impassive expression.

“What about it?”

“You're thinking about something,” Alexander muttered. “But what?”

How could he tell? Burr was sure his face gave nothing away.

“I can take care of myself just fine.”

“Okay.”

“Are you and Jefferson planning something?” Alexander continued louder.

“That remains to be seen.”

“So no. What is it then? Did Washington say anything?”

Burr decided he should leave before Alexander deducted his thoughts. He left the files on Alexander’s desk and quickly swept out, ignoring the immigrants protests behind him. Scary.

For now, Burr decided, he would wait and see what would happen. If something bordering on dangerous was happening, then he would interfere. He hoped it wouldn’t wreck their relationship permanently. Even more, he hoped it wouldn't break Alexander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to comment or leave a kudos


	3. Chapter 3

Alexander watched as John slowly moved through the paces. Lee was his opponent, gun in hand and a terrified expression on his face. In contrast, John was determined, clenching his gun with such force that Alexander was surprise it hadn’t broken. They were almost to ten. Though Alexander knew the ending, he found himself paralyzed, unable to move a muscle as he watched in horror. As John moved step by step closer to his death.

“Alexander!”

Alexander snapped awake, panting and sweating. He could still picture John’s surprised face, slowly turning into one of acceptance as he fell. He made an indiscernible noise in his throat, reaching towards the phantom, determined to help. It was then he detected a hand on his shoulder, shaking him. Alexander rubbed tears from his eyes and looked up, finding himself staring into the concerned gaze of Washington. They were in the office. Had Alexander fallen asleep? 

“Are you alright son?”

“Don’t call me son,” Alexander growled.

“Were you dreaming of John?”

“No!” Alexander lied. The first time he had confessed to that, everyone had gotten upset. The Schuyler sisters had dragged Alexander over to their house and made him stay for a whole week before Alexander was able to convince them he would be fine alone. Eliza was still extremely worried, making Alexander promise go to Peggy, who was his landlord, if he needed any help. Alexander had crossed his fingers behind his back as he had agreed.

“Then why are you crying?”

Alexander gave no answer. Washington sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Son-”

“I’m not your son.”

Washington continued as if he hadn’t heard him, which only served to aggravate Alexander further.

“If you ever want to talk I’m always here.”

Not in a million years.

“Understood.” 

Washington seemed to read the underlying tone. He tried a different tactic.

“I also knew John. Not well, but I still feel sad that he has moved on.”

Alexander knew exactly what Washington was trying to do. He was expressing his own emotions so that Alexander would feel obligated to share. There was no way Alexander was going to do that. There would be nothing more embarrassing than breaking down in front of his boss.

“Sir, with all due respect, I must be heading home.”

Washington hesitated before nodding. He appeared satisfied as he let himself out, despite not having achieved his goal. Perhaps it was the fact he usually had to force Alexander to go home, even expressly ordering the night staff to keep him out. Thankfully, Alexander knew one, Hercules, that could be bribed with hot chocolate. Of course, that was before-

Alexander cut that train of thought off as he packed up. He would be able to get more work done at home. The room was another matter. Among other things, he had shattered a glass ornament in a small fit of rage, and the broken glass littered the floor. Grimacing as he walked over the mess he had made, he made a mental note to apologize to the night staff later. 

As he walked home, he lifted his head to observe the stars. John had always loved stars, dragging Alexander out to a particularly desolated spot in the middle of the night to see the milky way, or a comet shower. John particularly loved shooting stars. Alexander had never understood his fascination, but just watching the way John’s face lit up made the lost sleep worth it. To Alexander, John’s freckles were the real stars. Seemingly infinite and beautiful. Nothing in the universe could compare, especially when John put on his blinding grin. They could stay for hours, just him and Alexander. John’s favorite was shooting stars. He would point them out with such excitement, forcing Alexander to make a wish. 

His mouth twisted with anger. Shooting stars were useless, unimportant, and fake. None of the wishes ever came true. It was just a stupid fairytale, granted, one that brought John happiness, but a lie just the same. After John had died, they had lost all significance in his life, just an anomaly among the night sky. It had lost all its magic. His wish had been to stay with John forever. It obviously hadn’t come true. A tear ran down Alexander’s cheek. As he saw a star blaze it’s path through the night sky Alexander picked up a pebble and flung it at the star. It fell short of its target, just as Alexander knew it would. More tears.

“I wish…” Alexander gasped out, rubbing the tears off his face. “I wish John would come back.”

No John. What a shocker. Alexander shook his head, continuing the path towards his apartment. He should really stop being so stupid.

\---

Alexander dumped his cargo on his floor. Before John died, he would’ve immediately gone to work, drinking an immense amount of coffee and crashing late into the night. It was effective in getting his work done. But John wouldn’t want that. He would want Alexander to take care of himself. He had said as much every time he dragged him out of his apartment, insisting on a night off. 

Alexander snorted as he fell onto the bed. How ironic. Alexander wouldn’t listen to John’s wishes when he was alive, but now that he was dead he followed them. He wondered if John would be proud. Alexander felt tears build up again. He rubbed at them, trying not to let his emotions rule him. John would usually be on the other side of the phone, soothing him, encouraging him to express himself. Suddenly Alexander felt lonely. John was always there to comfort him, but now he was alone. No, that was not quite true.  
Feeling like a child, he knocked on the wall separating his apartment from Tom’s. It took a few seconds before he heard the French reply. 

“Alex?”

Suddenly the empty apartment didn’t feel quite as empty. 

“Hey Tom. Thanks for last night.” Alexander truly was grateful. Between the weight of losing John and the severity of the storm, he thought he was going to go insane. The talking distracted him, so much that he had even forgotten the storm. 

“What do you want as payment?” Alexander wasn’t stupid. He knew everything came with a price. Relationships came with the risk of heartbreak. Friendships came at the risk of hurt. There was a long pause; most likely Tom considering his price. 

“Your phone number.”

Alexander hadn't expected that.

“Why?”

“Considering your erratic schedule, I can’t be sure when you are going to be here for an actual conversation.”

Oh. Alexander had a tendency to work overnight. He only rented this apartment because John insisted it wasn’t healthy. Even so, he rarely came by, mostly to drop off something. His office had become his usual home. He could survive in there for weeks. They exchanged numbers. As Alexander inputted it onto his phone, he felt oddly happy.

“So you want to talk with me more?” Alexander realized.

“You left early this morning,” Tom quickly switched.

“Yeah, I have to get to work.”

Alexander honestly arrived earlier than anyone should have the right to. It was a pain for all his friends, but especially Washington. His boss, more often than not, had to drag him out of his office, threatening to put him on forced suspension. 

“What do you do?”

Alexander couldn’t tell him. Tom would probably figure it out right away and go straight to the local press to publish the story of the crybaby politician. Everyone would know about his situation. His reputation would crumble. His friends would be even more sure that he wasn’t capable of dealing with his grief on his own.

“I handle the financials for my company.”

It was technically true, if you could define a nation as a company. It had workers, trading, partners, and a budget. It wasn’t that far off. At least, that’s what he told himself.

“How about you?” Alexander continued, trying to get the topic off him.

“I do the public relations.”

Tom was likely an extroverted person then. Alexander had guessed as much through their conversation. But that bagged the question...

“How do communicate with customers and partners when you speak French?”

“I can speak English too. It was my first language. My friend was the one who made me learn French. He grew up in France.”

“Oh! French is actually my native language.”

“I guessed as much.” 

“How did you know?”

“You grew up in the Caribbean. French is the primary language. There’s also the fact you were sobbing in French.”

Alexander winced. Whenever he was in a difficult position he tended to revert to French. 

“Are you alone every time there’s a storm?”

“What?” Alexander was not prepared for that.

“Do you just cry? Don't you have any friends?” Tom elaborated.

Memories of John swam before Alexander’s eyes. His contagious smile and freckles flashed before him. His seemingly infinite good will. The fact that he would help anyone but he always favored Alexander. His defensiveness. Alexander pushed these thoughts away. He couldn’t deal with that right now.

“Of course I have friends,” Alexander argued. “I just… didn’t tell them about this.”

“So every time there’s a storm you wait it out?” Tom asked in disbelief.

“No! John.. he knows.”

Alexander didn’t even realize he was speaking in present tense.

“John?”

“My best friend! He comes, we curl up on the couch and watch movies until I fall asleep.”

Alexander remembered those nights fondly. John was always there. He would check the weather forecast and drag a protesting Alexander in front of the television. When the thunder was audible John would turn the sound up to unbearable levels. They got many complaints, and there was once when John had to argue with a neighbor in the middle of the night. Despite this Alexander hadn’t gotten kicked out, much to the offense of their neighbor. Having your friend as the landlady had its perks.

“He must be really nice,” Tom sounded a bit bitter but Alexander took no notice.

“He is. He’s the best person I know.”

“I’m going out,” Tom said suddenly.

“What? Now?”

“Yes. Bye Alex.”

Alexander heard the door open and slam, and then Tom’s footsteps as he headed towards the elevator. That was rude. Where was he going? Alexander mentally shrugged. If he wanted to act like that he could. It wasn't Alexander's problem. Still he felt like he had done something wrong.

\---

James picked up after the second ring.

"Thomas, it's the middle of the night."

"Jemmy," Thomas cried, taking another swig of his bottle. "I'm lonely. Come over. Stay with me."

"Thomas, I have a wife."

"No," Thomas whined. "Don't let her come in between us."

"How much did you have to drink?" James asked, voice carefully measured.

"I didn't drink."

"Thomas."

"Maybe... ten bottles," Thomas admitted reluctantly. He could hear James' disappointed sigh and immediately felt guilty.

"I'm coming to pick you up. Stay right where you are."

"Fine."

It only took James five minutes. Thomas was slumped over the bar, still drinking. James snatched the bottle right out of his hands.

"Jemmy!" he protested.

"Thomas, no more. We're leaving."

Thomas followed James outside, whining like a petulant child. It took a lot of effort, but he finally managed to get Thomas lying down in the backseat as he started up his car. Thomas was really hungover, having a conversation with the back of the seat. James decided they were going to his house; Thomas obviously couldn't take care of himself right now. James sighed, trying to figure out how to explain this to Dolley.

"I'm sorry."

Jemmy looked into the rear view mirror. Thomas had a drunk face, but he seemed genuinely repentant.

"You're upset."

"It's okay Thomas. Just go to sleep."

Thomas immediately complied, snoring peacefully. James shook his head. It was rare that Thomas got drunk. James was going to have to have a serious talk with whoever had done this to him. Perhaps with a few threats mixed in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think!


End file.
